The Pull of Destiny

by Hotcheri

  Snorting, Mr. Astor dabbed at his mouth with a white napkin. “Who are you, my mother? Why the third degree? Sit down, dammit!”

  Glowering at his dad, Luke finally sat, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Are they coming back?” I could tell from his cautiously blank voice that he was striving to keep his temper. I’d never seen Luke really mad. Well, apart from the time I hit him in the face and fell on him, but that was ancient history now.

  “‘Are they coming back?’” Mr. Astor mimicked, his grey eyes dancing with satisfaction as a muscle worked in Luke’s jaw. Despite myself, my head was moving like I was watching a fast paced game of ping pong. Luke, his dad, Luke, his dad, Luke- I’m gonna have a crick in my neck if I’m not careful. “If you must know, smart ass, Faith happens to have a bedtime. But you should know this after all the time you spend reading her bedtime stories, right?”

  Luke shot me a quick, embarrassed glance which I pretended not to see. It was so evil of his dad to ridicule him in my presence. I squirmed in my seat, suddenly wanting the night to be over. Nothing had turned out like I expected. Your expectations were too high, Celsi. Agreed.

  “Dad-,” he started, but Mr. Astor talked over him, silencing him effectively.

  “Oh, yeah, you haven’t done that since the day she was born, have you?” He tutted as he shook his head, an amused look playing across his distinguished face. “I completely forgot how uninvolved you’ve been in your little sisters life.”

  His cheeks flushed (with rage? Humiliation? I couldn’t tell because his hair was hiding his face from my view) and his head bowed, Luke muttered, “Dad- can we just not do this right now? Please?” in an almost desperate tone. He was staring down at his hands, which were clutching his napkin with force.

  God, why did Hope have to leave? She would have put a stop to this. As things were, I was in a prime location to watch everything unfold and I hated myself for it. I wish I could be somewhere else...

  Guffawing, Mr. Astor eyed his son almost curiously. “What? Don’t want your date knowing what an incredibly lousy big brother you’ve been to Faith?”

  Luke raised his head, popping his knuckles as he looked daggers at his father. “That’s all in the past now,” he said quietly, the calmness of his voice belying the anger flaring in his eyes. I almost applauded him. Team Luke all the way, baby. This is the real deal family feud.

  “Oh, is it?” Mr. Astor asked almost courteously, pouring himself yet another glass of wine. I already knew he had had one (or seven) glasses too many- I could tell by the deliberate way he was talking. Another few glasses and he’d start slurring.

  As Luke leaned forward, his elbows on the table, he held his dad’s intimidating gaze.

  “Get your elbows off the table,” Mr. Astor commanded in a quiet and dangerous voice.

  Luke bit his lip angrily as he leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’ve changed, but you don’t seem to realize that,” he said bitterly.

  Mr. Astor appeared to find that statement rather funny, judging from the snort of contemptuous laughter that emanated from him. “You’ve changed?” he asked disbelievingly.

  “Yeah, but I wouldn’t expect you to notice, with your ‘busy’ life,” Luke said sneeringly, his mouth twisted in disdain.

  Mr. Astor looked heartily amused by Luke’s borderline rude answer. He chuckled, turning to me. My heart thumped, I was that sure he was about to start in on me too, but he just said, “He says he’s changed,” in a confiding tone as Luke glowered. “Just because he spends a couple of afternoons out of a month with his sister, he thinks he’s the brother of the year.” Another chuckle. “Congrats, Luke. I’ll get the waiter to bring you a cupcake to celebrate.”

  And here I was, thinking what I said made no sense at times.

  Luke’s lips tightened. I hoped he wouldn’t snap and start cussing his dad out. That was obviously Mr. Astor’s game plan, trying to get Luke to blow, which was, to me, truly bizarre. Why was he trying to piss his own son off so much and how the hell was he enjoying it so much?

  Is this normal father/ son behaviour?

  Judging from Luke’s stony expression- no. Why did they hate each other so much that this uncomfortable scene had to happen? What had happened between them to create such animosity?

  Mr. Astor turned to me again, his eyes asking me a question. “You know, Miss Sawyer, I tend to wonder why you accepted Luke’s date offer. I’m sure you know about his track record?”

  I opened my mouth to retort but Mr. Astor talked over me. In retrospect, that was probably a good thing, because I wasn’t feeling particularly disposed to him at the moment.

  “You’ve probably ruined your reputation just by going out with this screw-up son of mine,” he continued, nodding in a severely pissed off Luke’s direction. “No self-respecting guy would touch you once you’ve been tainted by Luke Astor the Third. I mean, look at Joanna Winthrop! They dated for a few years and now the only guy who’ll have her is that money loving scumbag she’s dancing with.”

  I looked up at Mr. Astor in surprise. He didn’t strike me as the type of guy who’d even remember the names of his son’s ex-girlfriends, but here he was, proving that he not only knew who Joanna was, he was also all up in her business.

  Luke also looked up at his dad, his face teeming with emotion. “Are you serious right now?”

  Ignoring Luke, Mr. Astor turned to me again. “After Luke’s third DUI, I told him to straighten out or I’d send him to one of the strictest English boarding schools on the planet. Can you imagine, he crashed one of my cars into a McDonalds while he was on a bender with a bunch of his dumbass friends?”

  I vaguely recalled hearing something about that incident, but by the time the story had gone through our school grapevine, the general consensus had been that Luke and his boys crashed the car into an oil tanker outside a fancy restaurant and they managed to escape right before the car went up in flames, incinerating the fancy restaurant and everyone in it.

  I knew Robyn was lying about that!

  I didn’t say anything in response to that, because, well, what could you say?

  Luke groaned loudly. “Oh, my God, dad, just stop already! You’ve already ruined the entire night for us.”

  “Me, ruin your night?” Mr. Astor looked genuinely surprised as he pointed to himself. “I’m just regaling your beautiful date with stories, since you’re obviously too tongue-tied to talk to her yourself.” Now he thinks he’s doing us a favour. Come on! “Of course, he isn’t always this tongue tied around girls,” Mr. Astor went on, turning to me again. “In fact, the amount of times I’ve found him in the hot tub with a pretty young thing - let’s just say he gets his libido from me.” He winked lewdly as my eyes widened. “I always was scared that little Faith would walk in on him and his various floozies, but so far so good. Ever since the doctor diagnosed his aneurysm, he’s been keeping a low profile, thank God. Or maybe he’s been holding his sexscapades in his room, where nobody can see.”

  “I’ve been helping him with his bucket list,” I interrupted hastily, feeling like I had to say something to detract Luke’s dad from the embarrassingly painful dissection of his son’s sex life. In the back of my mind, all I could think was ‘I sat on his bed! Did he hold his sexscapades there too?’

  Luke glanced up from his study of his hands, a positively grateful look on his face at my intervention tactics. He mouthed, “Thank you,” at me as his dad did a double take at the sound of my voice. What did he think he’d been talking to all this time, a tree?

  “What’s that? A bucket list? Why the hell would he have a bucket list? You that sure you gonna croak, kiddo? You want me to cancel Dr. Khan and let you handle this by yourself?”

  I almost growled at Mr. Astor’s callousness. Didn’t Luke’s wellbeing mean a damn thing to him?

  “People don’t only have bucket lists just because they’re going to die,” I said in chilly tones. “Luke wants to do the things he always wanted to do before he has
his operation. It has nothing to do with death and everything to do with being organised.”

  “But Luke isn’t organised, sweet thing,” Mr. Astor said, swigging down his wine like it was water. “He does everything half assed then drops it when he’s bored. You wait and see. He’s not gonna finish his stupid list.”

  “Yes, I will,” Luke said, his voice flat and emotionless.

  “Oh, wait, I’m sorry, you must have already finished your list!” Mr. Astor laughed sarcastically. I’m really starting to hate that laugh. And the man. And his overpowering cologne. “I mean, what could possibly be on it apart from ‘get wasted’, ‘get high’, ‘vandalise historic landmarks’, ‘get suspended multiple times’ and ‘get arrested’? Honestly, the only thing you could still do is get yourself into a car accident and go the same way as that friend of yours.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock. Mr. Astor was talking about Shane! And in such a blatantly disrespectful way too! Hadn’t he ever heard about not speaking ill of the dead? And he was Luke’s best friend, too!

  Giving his dad a look of utmost fury, Luke pushed his chair back and stood up, kneading his forehead with one hand. “That’s low,” he said, his voice cracking with anger. “Shane was my friend! His parents are here- you’re heartless!”

  With that parting shot, Luke turned and stomped out of the ballroom, his back rigid with anger.

  Grinning like everything was all good, Mr. Astor turned to me. “He’s probably gone to bawl his eyes out,” he said dismissively. “Can I tempt you with some wine?”

  This had to be a dream. Either that or I was being punked. Please let this be an episode of Punk’d. Because no family could possibly be this dysfunctional, could it? I thought I had it bad with Nate. This was an entirely different story.

  I stood up, grabbing my purse. “Excuse me, sir. I have to go check on my date,” I said, my voice sounding frosty to my ears. I didn’t care much. The last thing I felt like doing was being nice to the egotistical man. No wonder Luke put up such a tough guy front. With a dad like that, he had to.

  Before Mr. Astor could say anything else to me (can I tempt you with some wine? Puh-leeze!) I scurried off in the direction Luke had gone, my heels clattering on the floor.

  I found Luke leaning against the wall opposite the entrance, his head in his hands. Uncertainly, I approached, twisting my purse nervously in my hands. Is he crying?

  Apparently hearing me get closer, Luke raised his head and gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. I was relieved to see that he wasn’t crying.

  “I’m sorry I ran out like that,” he said apologetically as I edged closer to him. “I just couldn’t take it - talking about Shane like that - talking about me like that...” His voice trailed off and he stared morosely at his hands. “I just had to walk away before I did something stupid.”

  “It’s okay, Luke,” I assured him, patting his shoulder.

  He rested the back of his head against the wall, closing his eyes. “My head hurts,” he mumbled. “I thought the- aneurysm was gonna implode, I was so pissed.”

  “He shouldn’t have been baiting you,” I said, my voice rising indignantly. “He knows you’re sick, he knows what could- potentially- happen when you get mad-.”

  “And he doesn’t care. All he cares about is work, money and - Faith.” Luke scowled reflectively. “Sometimes, he probably wishes she was his only child. I know I suck, I’m a waste of resources.” He gave a humourless laugh. “But- he’s stuck with me.”

  He sounded so sad, and looked so dejected that it was all I could do to keep myself from crying. I put an arm around his shoulder, wishing there was some way I could make him see that I didn’t think he was a waste of anything.

  “Why does he – dislike you so much?” I asked delicately, looking at his pensive profile.

  He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  In other words, none of your business. I nodded, deciding to leave it alone. But you told him about Nate and Rhea when he asked and if that wasn’t a long story, I must be loco!

  What I was thinking must have showed up one my face because Luke hurriedly added, “I’ll tell you all about it one day, but not now. I don’t wanna deal with it right now.”

  Fair enough.

  “Okay,” I whispered as Luke wrapped his arm around my waist.

  Ruefully, he said, “This date’s been a bust. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “I’m really-.”

  “Luke,” I said wearily, running a hand through my hair. I knew what he was going to say. I didn’t want to hear it again. “If you say you’re sorry again, I’m gonna cry. I don’t think you want that. It’ll make that day in Baskin Robbins seem positively tame.”

  “Okay, I won’t say the s word,” Luke said softly, coming closer to me. “Can I just say how pretty you look tonight?”

  I looked up at Luke through my eyelashes. “Well, I wouldn’t mind hearing that.”

  Dayum, he was totally flirting with me.

  “And throughout our dance, all I could focus on was your hair.” He put his hands on my shoulders in a repeat of that day at Shazia’s place, burying his face into my hair. Isn’t that somewhat unsanitary? I mean, I did wash it tonight, but still! “God, it smells so good! What shampoo you use?”

  “Herbal Essences,” I said, gulping rapidly as he raised his head from my hair and dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

  “It smells delicious. Like, if hair was edible, you’d be bald by now.”

  That’s a slightly scary idea. Thank God hair isn’t edible- no one would want to see a bald Celsi running around.

  “I’m glad that’s not the case,” I said as Luke randomly hugged me to him, pressing his cheek against mine.

  “I suck at dates, don’t I?”

  Shrugging as best as I could, I said, “Well, you sucked at this one.”

  Chuckling, he brushed his lips against my cheek. “Next time it’ll be better,” he assured me, tucking a strand of my no doubt mussed up hair behind my ear.

  Hold up. Did he just say next time?

  “What makes you think there’s gonna be a next time?” I asked coquettishly.

  Smiling roguishly at me, Luke said, “I never date and run. Promise.”

  I smiled back as he bent his head down again, presumably to kiss my other cheek. But-

  Let me just clarify one thing. It wasn’t dark in that corner we were standing in. I didn’t move my head suddenly at the last moment (I’m not that reckless). So when Luke’s warm, soft lips grazed against mine, I was pretty much as flabbergasted as you are.

  CHAPTER 17

  give them something to talk about.

  Celsi’s Point of View

  I should have seen it coming. The kiss, I mean. Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of sign that lets you know that a guy is going to plant a big wet one on you? Or in my unique case, a frisson inducing gentle one?

  You’d think that with all the romance books I practically devour that I would know all of the tell-tale ‘prelude to a kiss’ signs off by heart! Increased eye contact. Rapid breathing. Subtle licking of lips.

  Luke Astor must have missed the memo because I didn’t even have a second to realise that a kiss was his intention. If he’d just tried to hug me again, I would have been prepared, or at least not surprised, but a kiss... I was lost.

  I felt as though time had suddenly stopped as his dark hair suddenly brushed against my forehead like a silky curtain, tickling my eyelashes. His amazingly soft, slightly parted lips moved oh so slowly and gently against mine, feather light, as our breath intermingled. For a second I was frozen, too shocked to move, too shocked to know what to do. But I knew one thing for sure- if neither of us put a stop to this right now, I was gonna have to kiss him back.

  There are some things I can resist. Luke Astor’s lips on mine- not one of those things.

  Mustering up all my willpower (and t
hen some) as my paralysis broke and delayed reaction finally kicked in, I backed away from Luke, slamming my back into the wall as I stared at him, my mouth wide with shock. Unfortunately, immediately after doing so, I regretted pulling away. The kiss had actually felt rather nice, if I hadn’t stopped to remember where we were, and what might happen if Luke and I got caught red handed by Joanna, Wendy, or (God forbid) Luke’s father.

  Now that’s something I want to avoid.

  Maybe in another life I might have been able to kiss Luke back and not have to worry about the implicit repercussions, but that was neither here nor there. What mattered right now was the fact that nobody (hopefully) had seen the results of our little tête-à-tête.

  Luke looked about as stunned as I felt, which was saying something since I felt like I’d been hit between the eyes with a sledge hammer. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he cleared his throat. “CiCi, damn- I didn’t mean to do that,” he stammered, taking a hesitant step towards me then just standing there, his hands in his pockets.

  I stared at him dumbly, resisting the urge to put my hand up to my lips. Bad idea when you’ve just been kissed. That would just the fact that I was still mightily shook up over the kiss (can you say dazed?) really obvious to Luke, and I surely didn’t want that. Not at all. Unfortunately, Luke chose that moment to lick his lips and I almost groaned as the hyper voice in my head started in.

  What I really want to do is grab Luke and kiss him senseless.

  Swallowing hard, I tried to banish the unhelpful thoughts from my mind. No, you don’t. Focus, Celsi! Yeah, Celsi, focus on his nice, soft lips. My imagination (and the little voice in my head that never shut up) wasn’t helping me one bit as I argued with myself. As I am prone to doing. No! He’s your friend, you skank! That doesn’t explain why-.

  “You kissed me,” I breathed, sounding like all the wind had been knocked out of me. Which, in a way, was kinda what had happened. Metaphorically.